Page 109

I didn’t think this whole arrangement, situation, whatever it was now, was good for me. But I couldn’t bring myself to put an end to it.

“Want to watch something else?” My voice came out a little hoarse, so I cleared my throat. “Or, uh…”

Larkin lifted his head to give me a shy smile, but his gaze was a little uncertain. I realised with a jolt that I’d completely brushed past the compliment he’d given me, not even acknowledging it or giving him one back. Guilt pinched at my chest, but he was already answering.

“We should probably go to bed. Tuesdays are when Holt’s the most stressy because the wrestlers get all opinionated about his match choices for the week.”

I nodded quickly and patted his side to indicate that I wanted to get up. I didn’t want to talk about work right now. Specifically the wrestlers. Bitterness burned in my chest as Larkin quickly shifted off me and watched as I stood and turned off the TV.

“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously.

The uncertain edge in his voice made my heart crack a little. I couldn’t be an asshole to him. It wasn’t fair. I’d already ignored the sweet thing he’d said to me, which was probably making him feel insecure. My jaw clenched. That was such a dickish thing for me to do. He wasn’t used to saying stuff like that to people—having the confidence for it. And I was supposed to be helping him gain that confidence. That was literally what he’d asked me to do.

Plastering a smile on my face, I turned to look at him. “I’m great. Just getting tired, I think.”

When I held out a hand to help him up, he hesitantly grinned back and curled his fingers around mine. He didn’t let go once he was standing. Neither did I.

Clearing my throat, I asked, “Do you want anything before bed?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” He smiled up at me sweetly, rearranging our hands to thread his fingers through mine. My heart cracked open a little wider.

This wasn’t good for me.

The lines were getting too blurred. I’d been able to cope when we had our lessons, then we’d hung out separately as friends, and nothing intimate or sexual had crossed that boundary. But this was… I didn’t know what the fuck this was now. This was like we were an actual couple, except we weren’t.

It was getting too hard to pretend that this didn’t mean everything to me. Larkin wasn’t acting like these were just lessons anymore, and I wasn’t capable of keeping him at an acceptable distance, even though I knew it would be for the best.

Wordlessly, I led him toward the stairs and picked up his bag for him, then reluctantly let go of his hand to lock up and turn off the lights in the kitchen. The moment I joined him at the foot of the staircase, he twined his fingers through mine again. I loosed a silent, shaky breath as he led me up the stairs.

“You can’t laugh at my PJs, dude,” he was saying light-heartedly. “My mom made them.”

My mouth curved up into a tiny, fond smile. “Are they like your T-shirt at the diner?”

“You mean tie-dye and with flowers embroidered on them? Yeah.”

I started to chuckle, but it died in my throat when we reached the top of the stairs and he pulled me directly toward my bedroom, as if it was a given that we’d be sleeping together. I’d actually planned on offering him the guest room, figuring it was less pressure for him and better mentally for me to maintain that barrier—even though I’d been the one to ask him if he wanted to stay over—but I stayed silent. If he wanted to sleep with me, I was incapable of refusing him, or myself.

Larkin grinned at me after flicking on the bedside lamp, then pulled off his sweatshirt. “What side do you sleep on?”

God, this was like torture. This was everything I wanted, and it wasn’t even real.

“Right,” I croaked, passing him his bag.

His eyes brightened. “No shit? I sleep on the left. Guess we won’t be fighting over it.”

I managed a wan smile, watching as he tugged down his jeans and peeled off his socks. His gaze flickered to me with a nervous smile as he fiddled with the waistband of his boxer briefs, so I turned away to give him some privacy. Getting naked in front of someone outside of a sexual situation could feel vulnerable, and the last thing I wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

“What, um, do you usually sleep in?” he asked. “Remember you can’t laugh at my PJs.”

Figuring that meant he had them on, I looked back and felt my insides melt. He was wearing a gigantic T-shirt that swamped his lanky frame, with a big, lopsided daisy embroidered on the front. His pants had tiny clovers on them. He looked so fucking cute that I wanted to tackle him to the bed and burrow under the covers with him.

“I… uh… Nothing,” I answered absently, fighting the urge to snatch him up into my arms.

His eyes flared, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze flittered over my frame. “Noice. Um… well, don’t let me stop you.”

After a pause, I huffed in amusement and shot him a wry smile. He grinned back, fiddling with the hem of his big T-shirt, then reached into his bag and pulled out a toothbrush. “Can I go brush my teeth?”

“Of course.” I nodded at the door behind him. “En suite’s there.”